“As you say, I come of a noble house,” carelessly.
“You are mad.”
“No, count,” the soldier replied. “I have what Balzac calls a thirst for a full life in a short space.”
“I would give a deal to read what is going on in that head of yours.”
“Doubtless. But what is to become of our friends the Marshal and Mollendorf? What will be left for them? Perhaps there will be a chamber of war, a chamber of the navy. As a naval minister the Marshal would be nicely placed. There would be no expense of building ships or paying sailors, which would speak well for the economy of the new government. The Marshal is old; we shall send him to Servia. At least the office will pay both his vanity and purse to an extent equal to that of his present office. By the way, nothing has yet been heard from Prince Frederick. Ah, these young men, these plump peasant girls!”
Both laughed.
“Till this evening, then;” and the Colonel went from the room.
The minister of finance applied a match to the tapers. He held the burning match aloft and contemplated the door through which the soldier had gone. The sting of the incipient flame aroused him.
“What,” he mused aloud, as he arranged the papers on his desk, “is his third game?”
“It appears to me,” said a voice from the wall behind, “that the same question arises in both our minds.”